


Phoenix Rising

by FrejaUltor



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hello idk what I'm doing, who doesn't like beating up traffickers?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 02:12:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15062771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrejaUltor/pseuds/FrejaUltor
Summary: Cue the Overwatch symbol for a new hero!





	Phoenix Rising

The first blue light of dawn peeks through the blinds of a small apartment, illuminating a sparse set up. No couches or chairs of any kind to be found here. This might seem like a government agent’s squat while he’s on a mission, especially with the map covered in color-coded push pins—red, yellow, white spread out, with blue ones limited to a small area—but a few items show that to be a falsity. A gathering of pillows and blankets are pressed into a makeshift bowl against the wall, just big enough for a person to curl up, with indents of said person only just beginning to recede.

A dresser under the map holds the most signs of life. An anime figurine given the tender care of a glass case. Books untouched by dust arranged with no obvious system in mind. A broken smoke detector with a since disabled listening device inside; ripped from the ceiling the looks of it. An enormous, event-themed, plush pachimari is returned to its dwelling of the nest, from the spot it rolled to in the middle of the night, with a kiss on the face and a pat on the head.

Then, on the right-hand side of the dresser and pinned along the side of the board, are pictures. A girl and her father stand in formal attire with light smiles and arms linked. A photo booth reel of the same girl, now a woman, with a green-haired man, not much older than her, in a series of poses: kissy face, “gangster”, tongues out, silly, making a heart with opposing hands, and faces pressed together, smiling brightly. Another photo of the pair, this time with a man with the grudging expression of someone dragged into the shot but the genuine grin of a person glad he was. More photos of the trio ranging from formal, (with their parents present), to an arcade setting (with the woman triumphantly cuddling the plush, the men standing proudly behind her), cover the area.

Fingers gingerly trail over the men’s faces in one of these, as they have many times before. The woman stands before the board, aviator goggles around her neck, appearing older—and more tired—in the eyes than her body. Gazing intently at the info tabs on the pins, she pulls a white one from its place and slips the tiny card in her pocket. Squaring her shoulders, she pops her neck, slides on a pair of reflective shades, and leaves her abode.

She makes her way through crowded streets and even more populated squares, finally reaching the civilian airstrip. A pilot waves to her with a grin that widens upon payment. The jet soon rockets over the city, the surrounding landscape, and eventually, the sea. Staring out the window, she absentmindedly plays with her necklace; a delicately crafted piece of jade, depicting two dragons intertwined. Shadows cast by the sun shift and a clock on the control panel fades in and out of focus, displaying hours have passed.

“Just about there, Miss Eld,” the pilot informs her through the headset.

“Has Chuck checked in yet?”

“Yes, ma’am. He says the boats are ready whenever you are.”

She nods mostly to herself. With a breath to collect herself, she removes her glasses and headset, unfastens her harness and stands by the hatch door towards the back. Once she has her goggles in place, she yells to the pilot, “READY.”

A few flicks of switches and presses of buttons and the door opens. “Good luck!” the pilot shouts over the howl of the wind, but the recipient is no longer there to hear. Wings of flame spread to catch the gusts, and with a shriek not entirely of this world, she blasts above the water at a speed the tiny jet could only dream of achieving. It doesn’t take long for her prey to come into view. Large boats with no colors and speckled with guards cradling guns.

Pirates.

Blazing sun beginning its descent directly behind her, she remains undetected. Sharp eyes begin a headcount of those on deck from a couple miles away. Lowering her flight with the gaseous orb, she dives beneath the waves, using her momentum and residual heat to propel herself towards the closest ship. The darkening waters keep her form near invisible to the eyes above while she gulps in air.

The tiring day watch fails to notice a borrowed translocator soaring over the railing. How humiliating it must be to have one’s own gun whacked into the windpipe and the head. After emptying the gun’s magazine over the side, Eld removes a comm from her pocket.

“Get the wagons ready, Chuck.”

A voice crackles through, “On the way.”

Everything is going smoothly. More guards lie unconscious than stand at the ready. Three out of five ships’ decks have been cleared and the other two are small fry in comparison. Blood pumping, adrenaline running, the predator laughs softly, thoroughly enjoying the rush of the hunt. She lands deftly on the next target, the surrounding air simmering in her presence. Limbs tremble slightly in exhilaration that the mission is almost complete.

Wait.

Too easy.

Now everything is taut. Eld calms her breathing so she can hear over the sound of her heart pounding. No alarms have been raised but something is wrong. A trap? She chides herself under her breath for not checking the shipping containers on the first vessel.

CRACK.

Just in time she lets the flames consume her and incinerate the bullet that would have hit her side. A cry in an unfamiliar language springs up but its meaning isn’t necessary. The time for stealth is done. Now the horns blare on all the ships as armed people swarm to her, not bothering to aim as they pull their triggers. Flipping two metal batons into her palms, she lets out a battle cry of her own.

Squishy flesh bags of mostly water are hardly a match for fire, especially when quite a bit of it is friendly. Her batons bounce off the ship’s body to slam into faces, knees, and ribs, return to her hand by the call of a strong magnet only to be sent out to wreak more havoc. The pirates’ pleased smirks vanish completely when all the wounds they’ve managed to inflict disappear as the woman’s flames flare brighter and farther.

Another cry goes up as more boats appear, cutting off any escape route. It’s Eld’s turn to smile as she leaps high in the air. Flinging her arms wide, the blaze around her shifts into the symbol human and omnic traffickers have learned to fear. An enormous bird’s body flares with the woman at the center. An earsplitting screech is the last thing the pirates hear before the phoenix’s wings flash-fry them. The creature swoops over each vessel and lets its flames seek out each and every pirate, no matter where they might hide.

Landing with a great huff, Eld shivers as the fire beast recedes back inside her. Hurrying to the nearest shipping container, she melts the locks quickly and scrapes the door open. Inside, at least fifty young or metal faces look at her from the other end where they are huddled together in one trembling mass. Gratitude, relief, and shame all move across Eld’s face at the revelation this wasn’t a trap.

Slowly, she enters with hands raised in placation. “I’m not here to hurt you,” she tells them in English and a few other languages she’s learned these key phrases in. “I’m here to help. I can get you out but I ask you to be patient while I get the others. Do you understand?”

Several of them nod with clear relief in their expressions, while some speak in languages she doesn’t know to others until their faces also brighten. Eld backs out as slowly as she entered and the huddled mass begins to carefully shuffle out onto the deck. The smaller boats have positioned themselves alongside each of the larger ones, ready to receive those in need of rescue. She directs those who understand her to help lead the others across the walkways being placed. Getting all the victims loaded takes more time than Eld’s infiltration.

Finally, the smoking husks of the pirates’ vessels fade into the distance. Blankets and food are passed out while personal info—name, home town, names and contact of family members that can be contacted—is taken to help everyone get back where they belong with as little stress as possible. Medical attention is given to those who need it and counselors do their best to speak with each person. Eld watches over all of them from her perch on the top deck with a happy, tired look. A man climbs up to join her.

“Avis, you gotta stop doing this. We don’t make nearly enough money to cover the expenses of relocating these people, especially those who don’t have homes to go back to.”

She sighs through her nose before reminding him, “It’s not your money being spent. The funds come from the traffickers’ profits. We are basically buying these people their freedom with their own blood money. No, it doesn’t make them feel better, but other people looking to exploit the weak will think twice about whether the risk is really worth it.”

Chuck crosses his arms and shakes his head. “It’s all about supply and demand with these people. Sick bastards have a demand, and there are equally sick people willing to fill it with them,” he gestures to those below. “Not all of them have money, so how are we going to afford housing, shelter, _food_ for all of them? We don’t get paid enough to take care of them ourselves.”

Avis’s face loses all softness and a glint that had not entered her eyes even while fighting fills them now. “Take care, Charles,” she says softly, “you’re beginning to sound greedy.” He scoffs and tries to reply but her expression and biting tone cut him off. “If you have a problem with the financial structure of this organization, do feel free to find another place of employment. I have no patience for those who look at people and see dollar signs.”

“You need me,” he states with the arrogance that says he doesn’t believe otherwise.

She turns to face him fully, sharp eyes boring into him. “There are a number of people who would be _more than happy_ to have your position so they could feel they were doing something in the world. Perhaps even be willing to do it for free.” His jaw clenches as that peg hits home and she turns back. “You might not have enough to buy a third yacht, but I will make sure you have more than enough to get by, as I always have.”

He nods and leaves her to her post, watching the ships and sweeping the horizon for pirates and government transports. It’s been a long day, but she needs to keep all of them safe until they reach safe harbors.

 

Home once again; Avis Eld replaces the white pin she had taken out with a red one. There are still far too many pins on the board for her liking, and even more traders she doesn’t know about. Maybe it’s like Chuck said, and there will always be demand, or maybe tonight has sent ripples of fear so one less person is ripped from their home. Either way, the Firebird would be there to help them however they need her to.

Placing her goggles down on the dresser, she gazes fondly on the friendly faces of her past. “One more day,” she whispers to them, herself, and the spirit inside.

She collapses in her nest, wrapping herself in a ball around the tightly cuddled plush, and pulls a blanket around her shoulders. Almost immediately, she is asleep. There is life in this quiet place despite the Spartan decoration. Life and love that flow out from the pictures, even ones as seemingly cold as the newspaper clipping that reads, “Shimada to Sign Contracts with von Brandt.” Several family members fill the photo with names listed underneath. The woman is tagged as Celandine von Brandt.

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea for an animation of my Overwatch OC and since I can't animate, this is what my brain spit out. It was definitely good practice writing in present tense; I don't like to use it but this helped the "video" play through my head. (Cause reading screenplays is so choppy.) I'll be adding the first bit of her actual story soon--after I edit for the millionth time. Feel free to comment and I hope you enjoyed it! :)


End file.
